


I Amar Prestar Aen

by elsha



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Lord Of The Rings AU, M/M, elf!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsha/pseuds/elsha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is only when Arthur feels the light press of a blade at his neck does he realise someone is there. He half turns his neck bared, the edge of the sword pressing into his skin, with but a small flick of the sword-wielders wrist his body would be left on the snow covered floor in a pool of blood causing his inevitable death. He slowly and carefully reaches for his dagger, his hand tightens around the handle already formulating a plan but at the sound of the soft, mocking but nevertheless inhumanly gentle voice carried by the wind, he relaxes. </p><p>“What is this? A knight of Camelot caught off his guard?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Amar Prestar Aen

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the scene and thought what the hell. Mostly just thought how awesome Merlin would be as Arwen and Arthur as Aragron. Also merging Merlin verse with Middle Earth proved interesting -- just no one ask for a map of the place.

The snow has long since stopped but it still clouds Arthur’s vision as he attempts to keep his eye on the stag. He found himself deep in the woods of the western borders of Essetir, Cenred’s Kingdom. He doesn’t wear the colours of Camelot or it’s armour, only simple leather and chain mail hidden under his tunic and cloak, if someone was to come across him it’s possible they would think him a deserter or a lonely bandit but with his dark green cloak it was far more likely for him to be seen as a ranger of the North. He had been young when he trained with them barley reaching manhood when his Father had sent him off to the North, since then Arthur has felt more like a warrior than a future king.

 

There is quiet sound of heavy snow falling from branches and the stag snaps up in alarm but not yet moving from its position. Arthur had long since had his bow at the ready and pulls at the string drawing the arrow back a bit more, his arm muscles beginning to cramp after being in this position for so long. The stag turns its head and for one moment it looks right at him.

 

There’s no gasp of breath or a sudden change of heart or feeling of empathy; Arthur lets go of the arrow with a soft twang.

 

The arrow hits the Stag square in the heart, the thing has no time to even think about running before the force of the arrow in it’s side causes it to keel over. There is the sound of birds’ wings fluttering and a raven’s call.

 

The snow crunches underneath Arthur’s feet as he makes his way towards his prize. Arthur had always been far better with a sword than a bow but that’s not say he couldn’t catch a fair kill in both hunt and battle. As he approaches the Stag he sees not sign of life left, proving his shot must have been true but that doesn’t stop him from crouching beside it bracing one hand on an anther the other on his dagger to slit it’s throat.

 

Arthur gets to work his full attention on preparing the animal and continuing on as soon as possible, he doesn’t notice the footsteps behind him because there is no sign of them at all.  

 

It is only when Arthur feels the light press of a blade at his neck does he realise someone is there. He half turns his neck bared, the edge of the sword pressing into his skin, with but a small flick of the sword-wielders wrist his body would be left on the snow covered floor in a pool of blood causing his inevitable death. He slowly and carefully reaches for his dagger, his hand tightens around the handle already formulating a plan but at the sound of the soft, mocking but nevertheless inhumanly gentle voice carried by the wind, he relaxes.

 

“What is this? A knight of Camelot caught off his guard?”

 

Arthur’s stiff posture melts away but his heart still beats fast, he is still wary of his surroundings. Arthur makes no move to turn even when the blade leaves his neck, he take his time crouching at his freshly caught stag removing the entrails and anything else uneatable. Most had been against him going hunting in the mid-winter especially alone and with the Knights of Medhir once again awake and an ancient darkness growing in the east. But Arthur had been insistent and promised not to stay far from Camelot, of course he had not kept his promise for the company he had been searching for – and found – was the reason he had risked the ride in the first place.

 

“Why are you not in Mirkwood?” Arthur asks still not turning from his prize. There is only the sound of the wind rustling through bare branches, no sound of snow crunching underfoot the only indication of movement is the flutter of a cloak in the wind and a sword being sheathed.

 

“My people travel west, to The Seas of Meredor, to the undying lands.”

 

Arthur frowns. “And you travel with them?” The Elves usually travel in winter so as not to face Camelot rule, they are magical beings after all who practice it openly.

 

“No.” The word is soft but Arthur can hear it clearly even as the wind begins to howl softly in his ears. “But one day,” the voice stops.

 

“You should be more careful,” The voice says changing the subject. “The Fires of Idirsholas burn once more.”

 

“I know of the danger.” Arthur hisses out, sudden venom in his tone and anger in his heart, which is extinguished when his head snaps round to see the figure.

 

It’s blinding for a moment, like the sun shines around him and Arthur has to fight down the need to shield his eyes. The wood-elf stands before him; his shoulders back, head held high, holding himself with an effortless grace that only one of his kind can. Unlike Arthur he makes no footprints on the snow, it withstands his weight as if he weights nothing, leaving it as fresh as it was from the last snow fall. Though he is hooded Arthur can still make out the thick locks of raven coloured hair, highlighting the impossibly pale and unblemished skin, which still seems to admit a soft glow. The dark sapphire eyes look straight at him, unflinching, unwavering.

 

Arthur wants nothing more than to reach for him. Instead he swings the deer corpus over his shoulder and makes his way to his horse. Merlin follows.   

 

As he reaches for the reins he feels a hand cover his own, it’s warm on his cold one, which should be impossible in this whether. Arthur meets those eyes as best he can.

 

 _“Quel fara?”_ Merlin’s voice is soft, his voice naturally melodic voice caressing the words of his language, sending heat through Arthur’s cold body. He doesn’t answer not wanting to misunderstand and make a fool of himself and his expression must say as much because Merlin answers it with a laugh in his voice yet his face is the same curious and tender expression. “Have you forgot all I’ve taught you so soon?”

 

“It has been a long time.” Arthur says coldly and only then does Merlin flinch and Arthur allows himself to feel the triumph at causing it on such a beautiful face, which should never have such things cross it.

 

“Time is not my strong point.” _Neither is it yours_ is surly implied for Arthur is going on sixty yet he still looks like he has of yet to see over thirty winters. His grandfather and his own Father had been one of the Númenóreans gifted with long life. He is reminded of daily as he watches his father age more and more leaving the throne to Arthur himself. “Three years _is_ a long time.”

 

“In Human years maybe, you spend too much time with them.”

 

Arthur’s anger rises once more and moves his hand from Merlin’s to tighten the saddle. “What do you expect me to do?” He all but snarls, “Abandon _my_ people and run off with Elves?” _With you_ his mind supplies. There would have been a time when he would have; a young prince so arrogant not yet aware of what he’d descended from living behind the lies his father told him of his mother, days when he’d watch from behind bushes, Merlin cloaked in blue passing through the outskirts of Camelot in line with other elves, a lantern in hand, singing the laments of his people as they travelled from Mirkwood to the Golden Forest. It had been his mother’s wish for Arthur to spend his childhood there, to learn of his destiny and to meet Merlin. Not in the way he did; Merlin holding a dagger to Arthur’s back, who had in return managed to unarm him before pushing the elf up against a tree his elven dagger held to his throat, hissing in his ear “ _Do you know how to walk on your knees?”_ Only to finally have a proper look at his challenger to realizes that it was the beauty he’d seen in these woods so many times before.

 

“I only jest.” Merlin says quietly and there sadness in his voice and Arthur has little choice but look up. But there is no heartbreak in Merlin’s eyes for he does not know it, he knows of sorrow, but not grief or loss and it hurts Arthur that he’ll be just another human to Merlin a passing fancy like a leaf on the breeze.

 

Merlin moves in closer to Arthur raising a hand as if to touch Arthur’s face but his fingertips seem to only graze his skin as they moves from his forehead right down to his stubbled jaw. Then Merlin’s fingers move to Arthur’s brow and he feels Merlin’s fingers trace the lines there, attempt to smooth them and Arthur doesn’t realise that he’s closed his eyes in till he opens them, he sees Merlin has a frown of his own, his eyes clouded with confusion. “You look older.” He says softly. Merlin is still so young for an elf, still doesn’t fully understand the concept of age or time.

 

When Merlin’s hand falls away Arthur steps even closer his own hands coming up and pushing down the hood of Merlin’s dark cloak. Merlin’s thick locks cover his forehead and only the tips of his elven ears can be seen, he would have once woren his hair long like all elves but since the days of Uther’s anger had been forced to cut it so as to easily hide himself. There was once a time when elves where proud of their features but are now forced to hide such things even in kingdoms that are not Camelot. Men are greedy and tend to take a fancy to pretty things that are not their own and with that thought comes a flash of possession in Arthur.

 

Merlin’s fingers stroke Arthur’s cheek softly bringing him out of his thoughts. _“Uuma dela.”_ Arthur groans quietly in despair, letting go of his anger and pressing his forehead to Merlin’s. Merlin barely breathes and Arthur can feel the fast beating of his heart against his chest can hear his own pounding in his ears. _“Merlin.”_

 

Merlin’s fingers stroke at Arthur’s jaw and Arthur can hear his pleased sigh. “It’s been awhile since some one called me that.”

 

Emrys and the name sends shivers through Arthur even as he thinks of the elven name. Emrys belongs to the Elfish-folk but Merlin belongs to Arthur. 

 

Arthur moves a hand to the back of Merlin’s neck, pushing back the high collar of his elven tunic, tipping back his head so as the rose red lips can meet his. Merlin opens his mouth instantly meeting Arthur’s passion with the same intensity not holding back his gasp. Arthur allows himself the feelings that come with the kiss not bothering to hold back how desperate he feels or his impenitentness.

 

.

 

 

The heat in tent is comfortable and Arthur would be happy to have to never leave it again or at least wait for the remainder of winter to give way to spring. The light is dim in the tent but it is bright enough for Arthur to make out every part of Merlin quite clearly. They’re both completely stripped down now, lying in furs, Merlin lounging contently on Arthur’s chest sticky with sweat, tracing the lines of battle scars old and new. Arthur still breathes deep, heart still pounding fast unlike Merlin who never gets tried no matter how desperate and intense their couplings. The first time is always desperate, a little rough even, they fight to get close to each other not caring for their clothes as they rush to feel skin on skin.

 

The second time follows soon after, it’s a lot gentler and Arthur focuses more on Merlin’s pleasure than his own. Arthur’s dry lips and rough hands tracing every part of Merlin’s unchanged body, taking all the time in the world on every inch of pale skin, not teasing exactly, he is just thorough with his marks. It’s not long though till he has Merlin begging once more; lying on his back overgrown hair fanned out, red lips swollen, cock hard and leaking on his stomach, his finger nails digging into the skin of Arthur’s biceps, gold bleeding into his blue irises.  Elfish falling from his lips, the words of the common-tongue completely forgotten. _Iqista Arthur, amin merna,_ and Arthur will give in to the plea instantly.

 

“Arthur?” It’s Merlin’s soft voice that breaks through his thoughts, the wood-elf having moved from his spot and Arthur lost so deep in his thoughts not noticing how he now sits tall, straddling Arthur’s hips. Merlin weighs next to nothing so Arthur has little difficulty winding his arm round Merlin’s waist taking his weight with ease. The frown from earlier is back on Merlin’s face, the incomprehension. “Why so distant?” Merlin asks.

 

Arthur feels a flush of guilt, the talk of darkness and a new power raising in the land he can’t help but worry for his people and his father, long since poisoned by the silver-tongued Agravaine, who no longer holds his only son and heir in high council. “It is nothing.” He says softly.

 

Merlin doesn’t believe it for a second but he does not protest. “What was the song you were humming earlier?” Arthur asks changing the subject purposely. Merlin tilts his head to the side, blue eyes glowing in the orange light. “Just a poem.”

 

“What is it about?”

 

Merlin turns his head breaking eye contact with him, shrugging. Arthur pinches his side in an attempt to get him to talk causing Merlin to huff in annoyance.

 

“Lúthien Tinúviel.” The elven name rolls off his tongue with ease and grace. “An Elf maiden who fell in love with man.” When Merlin stops Arthur nudges him to continue. “When he died so strong was her love for him she passed also and when she came to the hall of Mandos she sang to him. So enchanted by the tale Mandos granted them a mortal life together.”

 

Arthur let the tale sink in. He moved his remaining hand to clasp Merlin’s. Arthur feels the cool metal of Merlin’s family ring on his skin. It was traditional for Elf’s to give their rings to their betrothed a year before marriage, he and Merlin had never talked of such things, but Arthur had no doubt that the day would come when Arthur met Merlin and would find he no longer wore the ring that was his own. He dreaded that day.

 

Would Merlin ever do such a thing for him? Choose a mortal life over an Elven one? Arthur dared not ask the question for he feared the answer.

 

“I’ll teach it to you one day.” Merlin promised then his face broke out into a small smile. “You need to know how to speak our tongue first.”

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow and watch Merlin as he pressed his had on Arthur’s chest. _“Adan.”_

Arthur compiled. _“Adan.”_ He repeated but not nearly as graceful as Merlin.

 

Merlin indicated to himself. _“Edhel.”_   Arthur repeated it stumbling a little but Merlin corrected him with a smile.

 

“What else?” Arthur asked pushing himself up off the furs, to meet Merlin who in turned leaned back into Arthur’s arms, wrapping his own around his neck. Merlin looks thoughtful for a moment. He whispers something in a new language entirely, Arthur knows he’s not to copy, his eyes flashing gold as he does. _“Lûth.”_   Merlin says sounding smug and Arthur sounds it out slowly raising his eyebrow in question. “Magic.” Merlin supplies.

 

He holds out a finger, a small flicker of fire above it before blowing it out.

 

 _“Nar.”_ Arthur says and Merlin’s face breaks out into a smile. Arthur leans closer, his nose skimming Merlin’s collarbone, his mouth finding a mark on Merlin’s neck he made earlier, _“laeth.”_

 

Merlin shoves him lightly. “You do remember.” He accuses but there is still a smile on his face.

 

“Only the important things.”

 

“Like?”

 

Arthur reaches and moves a lock of hair from Merlin’s face. _“Bein.”_

 

Arthur had no idea that elves could flush so. Merlin hides his eyes from view for a few moments before pressing his hand on Arthur stomach, a smirk on his face and something wicked in his eyes. _“Tûg.”_  

 

“What does that mean?” Whatever it is it doesn’t sound particularly kind. Merlin’s smirk widens. “Fat.” 

 

There is shriek of Merlin’s laughter as Arthur flips them over growling menacingly but albeit playful.  “I am not _fat._ ”

 

“No?” Merlin shakes his head but he’s still laughing and Arthur growls again grabbing Merlin’s hand pressing it into his own stomach. “Does this feel like fat to you?”

 

Merlin doesn’t answer, no longer laughing instead his expression becomes relaxed, still a small smile on his lips. Arthur wishes he could stay in this moment forever forget about destiny and being the so-called salvation of man.

 

 _“Meleth.”_ Arthur says suddenly and he watches Merlin’s face closely, leaning forward lips inches apart the atmosphere turning serious and heated. “It is the most important.” He whispers.

 

Merlin surges up to meet the kiss, and when Arthur slips into him with ease, but there is still tightness around him. Arthur doesn’t hold back in his thrusts and nor Merlin in his sounds of pleasure, fingers once again digging into Arthur’s skin and when they are both finally lost in their passion together, Arthur slips out and finds himself drifting into slumber the second he moves to Merlin’s side.

 

He never gets a reply, he doesn’t expect to. All that he feels is the soft caress of fingertips upon his cheek, the inhumanly soft voice whispering _Losto_ before he loses himself in black.

 

.

 

Arthur readies his horse, the tent packed away and the stag strapped to his saddle. The freshly fallen snow covers the footprints and any other marks made, leaving no trace of settlement. Merlin has his own horse ready to ride in the opposite direction.

 

“You should take the path of The Valley of Fallen Kings’ it will surely be safer than the way you’ve come.”

 

Merlin tilts his eyes clouding with confusion. “Camelot holds no control here.”

 

“No,” Arthur agrees, “but that is not what I’m worried about.” He glances over his shoulder as if he can feel himself being watched. He turns back to Merlin. “The darkness in the east grows. Some even say a great army is being built.”

 

Merlin glowers slightly, “I can look after myself.”

 

Arthur steps forward. “I know,” and he watches as Merlin raises his hood wanting badly to stop him. “But please take no risks.”

 

Merlin turns to his horse and Arthur wants to help if at least to touch and have him close for at least a few moments more.

 

“We’ll meet again soon, Arthur,” Merlin promises they do not kiss nor do they embrace for fear it feels to close to farewell. Merlin mutters something in elfish to his horse kicking his heals and gives one fleeting glance at Arthur who hopes the longing and sadness in it is not his imagination before galloping off in the direction of his kin.

 

 _“Namárië,”_ Arthur whispers watching after him as he disappears into the thick mist, not moving in till he can no longer hear the sound of hooves. Arthur raises his own hood, wrapping his cloak around himself to try and stave off the cold. Horse reins in hand he walks, descending into the mist in the direction of Camelot. 

**Author's Note:**

> Quel fara? – Good Hunt?  
> Uuma dela – Do not worry  
> Iqista Arthur, amin merna – Please Arthur, I want  
> Adan – Man/Human  
> Edhel – Elf  
> Lûth – Magic  
> Nar – Fire  
> Laeth – Neck  
> Bein – Beautiful  
> Tûg – Fat  
> Meleth – Love  
> Losto – Sleep  
> Namárië – Farwell  
> I amar prestar aen – The World is Changing
> 
> *good lord I hope this is all right* 
> 
> Dear hard core LOTR/Tolkien fans please don't kill me this is not at all in any way trying to ruin the awesome-ness that is LOTRs purely just an author having fun. 
> 
> To the rest of you I know this is wildly out of character and if that's not your cup of tea then that's okay but comments and kudos would be most appreciated. 
> 
> To anyone that knows their Elfish do not hesitant to point out mistakes I will correct them everything I got is from a website not a Tolkien book also some Elf trivia I got off the web. God bless Mr and Mrs Wikipedia. :D
> 
> And oh my god you guys The Hobbit. And Merlin Series 5


End file.
